Coward
by OxOx-Megz-OxOx
Summary: "Because that's what he was, a child. A child caught up in a game that he wasn't sure he felt like playing anymore. Except it wasn't a game, not anymore. This time, it was real . . ."


**Requested by alovelikesnapeandlilys (The Unintended Horcrux) on tumblr, who wanted a final battle Dramione.**

* * *

"Why didn't you tell her - Bellatrix? You knew it was me. You didn't say anything,"

Draco swallowed.

This was the question he'd been dreading. He knew he never should have tried to help them. He should've just told Bellatrix when he had the chance. But even now, if he had the chance to change his mind, he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not that it had made any different anyway. Hermione had still been tortured, Harry and Ron still locked up. But it had bought them some extra time, and they'd escaped. At least, Draco would like to think it had bought them some extra time.

In reality, he knew he'd just been too much of a coward to _really _do anything.

He'd been a coward all along. A coward pretending to be something he wasn't; a leader. He wasn't a leader, not even close. He couldn't even stand up for what he knew was right, when he'd had the chance. Because he was _afraid. _Afraid of ruining his reputation, afraid of what other people might think. Leaders didn't feel fear. Only strength. No, he wasn't a leader.

And even now, he still couldn't admit it.

But it was too late. Because Harry already knew. Draco could see it in his eyes. He knew. And now, he was going to call him out on it.

"Goyle, Zabini, go after the others, will you?" Draco muttered, turning to the two Slytherins behind him. They turned to each other, both looking unsure.

"But Draco -" Goyle protested, about to step forward. But Draco stopped him.

"I said _do it!" _Draco yelled, as he continued to point his wand at Harry. But his hands were shaking, and the motion was becoming a little less threatening now, and a little more like a pathetic child trying to defend himself. Because that's what he was, a child. A child caught up in a game that he wasn't sure he felt like playing anymore. Except it wasn't a game, not anymore. This time, it was real.

Zabini and Goyle scuttled off after Hermione and Ron, waving their wands in the air. The two Gryffindors needn't worry however, as Zabini and Goyle were about as useful as a glass of frozen pumpkin juice. They were more danger to themselves than they were to anybody else.

"Why didn't you tell her, Draco?" Harry asked again, more insistent and Draco lowered his wand.

His hands were still shaking, and he was having a hard time controlling his nerves. His once perfect, white-blonde hair was now matted with blood, and sweat. Whose blood it was, Draco wasn't sure he wanted to know. His clothes were torn, and the only wand he had didn't even work properly for him. His skin was almost grey, and there were big, black rings around his eyes. He didn't belong here, on a battlefield. But then, none of them did.

"You know why! Of course you know!" Draco cried, running his fingers through his hair, beginning to pace. He put his wand back into his pocket, defenceless now. But he knew that Harry hadn't come to fight. They weren't enemies, not really. What they had was just a childish feud that, in the face of everything that was going on, didn't really matter anymore.

When Harry didn't reply, it occurred to Draco that maybe he didn't know. And as he turned back to the other boy, he saw that he was watching him, with the same look of confusion he'd worn that day at the Manor. Because he still didn't _understand, _he still didn't _get it. _Even though it was staring him in the face, it had been from the beginning. He still couldn't see it. And would have found it almost laughable, if the whole situation weren't so tragic.

"Because of _her!" _Draco shouted, turning on his heel. He didn't care who found out anymore, because it didn't matter. The war would be over soon, and it didn't matter what happened, because there could be no winners anyway. Everybody would lose something or _someone _for another pointless reason. If they thought him a traitor for loving her, he didn't care. "Because I'm in love with her!"

It hadn't meant anything, not at first. It was just a few accidental meetings at night, when they couldn't sleep. Then, all of a sudden, they stopped being so accidental. He was the only person he could talk to, about things that nobody else could understand. And she didn't judge him for any of it. Not even when he became a Death Eater. Because she _understood. _It wasn't his choice.

And then the secret meetings turned into stolen kisses, and whispers in the night. Whispers that nobody else heard.

They'd known from that start though, that it couldn't last. And when the last night of their sixth year came, they knew they had to say goodbye. Hermione knew she wouldn't be coming back to Hogwarts the next year, and they knew what was coming. They could never be together, that much was obvious. They were on two different sides, whether they had chosen them intentionally or not. Light ran deep in her blood, and dark ran even deeper in his. They didn't _have _a choice.

"Hermione." Harry whispered, and all Draco could do was nod, tears forming in his eyes that never seemed to fall.

. . .

It was later that day, stood out on the battlefield, when he was asked to make a choice.

A terrible choice. But one that everybody knew had already been made for him. He had no say in it, and as heart-breaking as that was, it was the truth. And it broke his heart. Because although he was stood alone, and she was with _him, _he could still feel her there beside him, urging him not to do it.

He wondered what they could've been, if his life was different.

Could they have been together? If he were a Gryffindor, or she were a Slytherin? Would they have been happy? Or would they have been heading for the same heartbreak that they were both about to suffer now? He doubted it. Because in the end, everything they said about it not mattering who they were, or where they came from . . . it _did _matter. Maybe not to them, but who they were was exactly the reason they could never be together.

Even when this was all over, and the good side inevitably won, it was forbidden. He, and his entire family would be locked away in Azkaban, while she would be free to marry Weasley, to have children of her own, and send them off to Hogwarts. Telling them stories of the Gryffindor and the Slytherin who could never be together. Telling them that they were just stories. Because in the end, that's all their love would be. Just stories.

Stories that would never have a happy ending.

And who was he to disappoint?

He knew if he looked back as he walked, he'd see her. The tears falling down her cheeks that she'd been trying so desperately to hide so that nobody would know, but the look on her face that said it all. The opening of her mouth as she tried to catch her breath because it felt so much like she was drowning. He knew this because he felt exactly the same, like he was walking off to his death sentence.

So he didn't look back.


End file.
